


3x11

by RumbleFish14



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bittersweet, Declarations Of Love, Episode 3x11, Fluff and Smut, Gallavich, Happy Ending, M/M, Rimming, Sad and Sweet, hopelessly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-12 13:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumbleFish14/pseuds/RumbleFish14
Summary: A little episode ending change for the boys in Season 3, Episode 11...just because they needed a happy ending :)





	1. Ian's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly Canon from the episode with a few changes and a WAY better ending

3x11

Ian didn’t have a plan when he rolled out of bed and tossed on the jeans that he wore last night. He still didn’t have a plan as he ran as fast as humanly possible towards the VFW.

Mickey was going to get married today, to her. To a whore. Literally. He wasn’t just being an asshole. Svetlana really was a whore. How was that any better then him wanting Mickey as a boyfriend? Or to admit that he was gay, and in love with him?

Setting up for the wedding was fucking torture. He thought suffering through a beating from Frank was bad or even when Mickey kicked him in the face, that was child’s play compared to seeing the love of your life’s wedding, when he wasn’t marrying you. 

Even as he leaned against the closest building, puking up all the alcohol and beer he and Lip consumed after he was done helping Mandy, he still didn’t have a plan. This wedding was bullshit. All of it. 

At first, he thought it was real. He discreetly hounded Mandy for details. If Mickey loved her or what she looked like. It wasn’t until he heard that Mickey managed to knock her up the one and only time they fucked, excuse me…when she raped him, that it all made sense. 

Terry set this whole thing up and Ian knew that Mickey had to go along with it or eat a bullet. The one that had been in the chamber that day when Terry caught them. Ian could almost guess that either Terry showed it to Mickey as often as possible, or that Mickey made himself look at it. 

If Mickey didn’t marry her, that bullet was in their short foreseeable future. Ian would happily take that bullet if Mickey didn’t have to marry her, to raise their child. An innocent, created out of hate and fear. 

The plan still hadn’t hit him when he opened the doors to the VFW, and he scowled at that stupid handmade banner hanging in the center of the room. He wanted to light it on fire, along with half the people in this building. 

Why did he need a plan? Because even with knowing what awaited them if this wedding didn’t happen, he still had to try and stop it. If he did nothing, he would regret it more than it actually happening. He had been fighting for Mickey since day one, fighting with him. And he would continue to fight until Mickey wasn’t his anymore. 

Nauseous, dizzy and in actual pain from being this close to something so awful, Ian hadn’t seen Mandy until she was in his face, eyes a little wide and he wouldn’t admit to seeing two of her, blurring in and out of each other.

“Ian, I thought Lip said you were sick.”

Ian scuffed but a burp came out that nearly had him throwing up again. He breathed passed it and shook his head. “No, yeah, no, I am sick. Totally sick. Been throwing up all day.”

Mandy put her hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You need some water?”

Ian shook his head. He wasn’t drunk, more like disgusted. “No water, m' fine. Just needed to talk to Mickey.” He looked around; almost sure he’d have on that fake smile as he greeted Terry’s fag bashing jail buddies. 

“He’s a little busy Ian, ya know, trying to get married.” 

Ian felt his stomach curl in on him. “Yeah, that’s what I need to talk to him about.” He wiggled his pocket, pretending he had something in there that was for Svetlana. He had something in there, but not for her. “He asked me to bring it.”

Lies, all of them. And as bad as he felt for lying to his best friend, it was nothing compared to as bad as he felt this moment thinking about Mickey checking himself in the mirror, fixing his wild hair or getting mad that his tie wasn’t straight. 

“Oh wow! He didn’t mention that.”

Ian faked a smile for her, just so he didn’t get called a liar. “Yeah, how sweet. So, where is he?”

Mandy pointed to the stairs. “Down there. Probably trying to make sure his tie isn’t crooked.”

Bile rose up in his throat. Ian faked a laugh and headed to the door. “Stall as long as you can okay?”

“Uh, yeah sure. I’ll just keep giving everyone liquor. That’ll keep em busy.” 

Ian nodded and waited until she turned away before he darted to the left of the door and into one of the bathrooms. He didn’t know which one and he didn’t care. What he needed was to run water over his flushed face and rinse out his mouth. Only thing was, neither of those helped. He was stalling. 

“Don’t be a pussy.” He mumbled to himself and took the steps down into the lower level. He could hear Mickey pacing from down the hallway and tried not to run there. 

The moment he jerked open the door, his non-existent plan flew from his mind. Mickey was dressed in a suit, looking like a kid at his first dance, more like a man at his first wedding. It made him want to fucking cry because this was actually happening. It was as real as he was standing there. 

Mickey was pacing as he smoked a cigarette. But the moment he stepped in the room, blue eyes hungrily scanned him from head to toe and Ian could feel that spark that always lead them to each other. It was still there and that pissed him off. He went from being sick to being pissed the fuck off.

“You call me a punk for wanting a boyfriend or whatever, but you’re gonna marry someone who screws guys for a living?” he barked the words and stepped up as Mickey’s reply tried to shut him down.

“Who gives a shit? It’s a fuckin piece of paper.” Mickey moved up, looking down at him as much as he could.

Ian felt his heart literally crumble in his chest. He knew Mickey wasn’t the marrying type before all this, but is that all he thought it was? Just some scrap of paper that you could toss aside right after you’re done? 

Did Mickey even think about what came after this? The wedding, the kiss, the goddamned honey moon? The kissing and the sex, fuck, the sex?! How the hell was Mickey okay with that? He and Svetlana would have to act like a damn married couple. She’d move into his house, sleep in his bed, touch his body and kiss his lips. Lips that he had been denied for years. She would get him.

With that in mind, Ian replied with the only thing he was sure of. That a simple piece of paper was real. “Not to me.” Mickey dismissed it with a scuff and that was about all he could take. He eyed his soft lips quickly and turned around.

“Hey, come on—look, just cuz I’m getting hitched doesn’t mean we can't still bang. Okay?”

Ian turned around. Was that all it was? Sex? He could have sworn they got to the bottom of this already. His body still ached from getting his ass beat over it. Mickey was gay. And he loved him. Mickey thought that he was mad because they couldn’t fuck anymore?

Ian walked back over, biting his lip, getting ready to amp it up if he needed to.

“Alright?” 

“If you give half a shit about me,” he paused when Mickey put his hand up and once again scanned the length of his body.

“Hey—hey” 

Ian kept talking over him. “Half,” he paused to look into his eyes. Desperate to find just a little piece of Mickey that love him. “Don’t do this.” Ian pleaded, trying to show how much this was fucking him up.

They stared at each other for ages. Or maybe it was only seconds. He hoped to God that his pleas, that showing up here, right now, pretty much laying his entire heart out, would show Mickey how much he loved him. He hoped it would show that he loved him today, and yesterday. That he loved him when he was threatening to beat his ass and that he would still love him tomorrow. Or years from now. 

For a second, it looked like Mickey was about to hit him again, to use his fists instead of his words. So when Mickey pushed forward with a tattooed hand on the back of his head, Ian flinched. Until Mickey kissed him. It wasn’t the first time, but it was so new, and Mickey never acted on it first before. Until now. It was so fucking good. Better than sex with anyone else in the world, better then that Christmas morning feeling or that unbelievable first stretch of the day. Better than any amount of money or all the love in the world.

Mickey was kissing him. 

Ian groaned into it and wrapped his arm around Mickey’s waist and one cupped his face, just in time to have Mickey walking backwards. Making him lead them to the nearest, semiprivate area. He greedily pushed his tongue against Mickey’s each time it licked into his mouth. Like he was trying to taste him as deeply as possible each time. 

Ian walked them to an open door, so entranced on Mickey’s tongue tangling with his own that Mickey backed up against the door frame for a split second, but it was long enough for him to grind against him. He swallowed Mickey’s groan and let him pull him into the room.

They broke apart long enough for Mickey to shrug out of his jacket, tossing it as far away from them as possible and the way he licked his lips at the same time, had him aching and eager to get in him. Ian shrugged off his jacket and watched as Mickey backed up against one of those large metal tables on wheels. 

Mickey was hungry for it. Starving. He finally listened to his body and knew what he wanted. Ian was already panting, half out of his mind with the need to claim him. To make up his pretty white skin with red and pink marks from his mouth. To show Svetlana that Mickey was his. All the time. Even on their special day. 

“What the fuck you waitin on Gallagher?” Mickey smirked as he quickly popped the button on his slacks and leaned against the table. “We don’t have all day here.”

The sounds of laughter and music sounded from above and Ian looked from the ceiling, back down to him and smirked. “Hear that? They don’t even know you’re gone.” His voice was low as he inched forward and popped the button on his jeans before spreading them wide at the zipper, so his boxers showed low on his hips. “I think I can have all the time I want.”

Mickey scuffed but Ian saw that smirk he tried to cover up each time he licked the corner of his mouth. 

“You gonna get on me then? Stop with the chit chat.”

Ian shook his head and stopped walking when they were face to face and he could see how flushed Mickey’s face and neck was. He knew it spread down to his chest as well. He put both hands on the edge of the table, on either side of Mickey’s body and leaned in until their noses touched.

“I’m going to take you apart Mickey.” Ian didn’t budge as Mickey scuffed and tried to move away, clearly uncomfortable with anything like this. “You don’t get to walk away this time baby.”

Mickey growled and shoved at his chest. “I told to cut that shit out. "M’not your fuckin baby.”

Ian moved his hands to Mickey’s arms, wishing he could feel skin instead of the rough shirt. Then he moved them over his chest, smiling when he didn’t jerk away. “This might be the last time I get to fuck you for awhile, the least you can do is admit it. You are my baby.” 

Ian smiled as Mickey let out a soft moan when he quickly unbuttoned each button on that shirt and peeled it back, getting all access to the front of him. He leaned in until their heads touched. Both of them shared deep breaths, so close to kissing it was a shame not to. 

“I know you want it Mick.” Ian cupped one side of his face as he thumbed over his bottom lip. “I can see it. I can smell it.” He turned his head by the chin and inhaled against his neck. “Fuck baby, I can smell it on you.”

“Just hurry before someone walks in.”

Mickey was trying to hide how much he wanted it. His entire body, voice included, trembled with the need to be touched. So far most of their fucks had been quick, half dressed, on the edge, worried someone might see. But now they had a moment to slow down and it was making Mickey uncomfortable. 

Ian licked down his neck, then kissed his way back up with wet kisses, running his tongue along the vein in his neck. Mickey gasped and the hands that had been useless at their sides, moved to grip the front of his t-shirt. He growled and pushed his hips forward. “You feel me?”

Mickey nodded and spread his legs wider. “Stop teasing, fuck.”

Ian wedged one foot in between Mickey’s and spread them open wider so he could move again. This time, he could feel how hard he was. Because of him. “Nice and hard for me.”

Mickey growled and pushed him back. He was panting and nearly pacing but unable to keep his eyes off him. 

“We don’t have time for this shit.”

Ian growled because they didn’t have time. No one up there would understand that he wanted to dick Mickey down good enough to make him call this wedding off. They didn’t understand that this might be his last chance, his only chance to keep what they had, what he worked so hard trying to create. 

“Fine,” Ian knew his voice sounded a little scary, it sent a chill down his own back. “Turn around and show me what I need to see.” 

He watched Mickey’s throat bob up and down as he swallowed back the groan Ian knew was there. That fire in his eyes only sparked hotter when they touched. But he turned around, bending over the table with his slacks loosely in place. 

Ian couldn’t take his eyes away as he shrugged his shirt over his head and tossed it in front of Mickey’s face and blue eyes looked back, eye fucking the hell out of his chest. Ian grinned and quickly started peeling down his jeans, very aware that Mickey was watching.

Ian let his jeans hang low on his body, only being held up by one side that was caught on his ass. He stepped up behind Mickey, pushing against his ass and making Mickey’s forehead lightly touch the table as he took a deep breath. His hands pushed up the shirt that was still pooled around his elbows. 

Ian bent down and ran his tongue up his spine, satisfied when a cluster of goosebumps followed. He pushed Mickey’s pants down to his ankles and kissed lower, over his ass, through the boxers until Mickey’s pants and shoes were all the way off, making it easier to spread him open. 

“Fuck, just hurry.” Mickey groaned and slammed his fist down on the table but didn’t make a move to hurry it along.

“Always in such a damn hurry.” He shook his head but sped it up and slipped Mickey’s boxers off as well until that incredible ass was right in his face. “Not gonna go any further until I have a taste.”

Mickey let a deep groan escape without meaning to and pushed his body back. “Do what you want, fuck. Just do it.”

Ian made Mickey spread his legs wider and spread him open. Just seeing him up close, just like every other time, it made him groan deeply. “Fuck baby,” Ian gave him a long, slow lick and his dick twitched as Mickey groaned. 

Mickey was squirming against the table, gripping it hard enough that Ian thought there would be finger intentions afterward. Ian didn’t let up after that first taste, he sped up. Licking and sucking and biting over his ass, gripping him hard and doing his best to keep him still. 

“Shit!” Mickey reached back and held onto the back of Ian’s head. 

That only made it better. Ian moved both hands between his legs, looped them up and around to grip both of his hips and pull him closer. “Grind on my tongue.”

Mickey shook his head, his face screwed up in an unreadable face. “Just shut up and keep going.”

Ian sunk his teeth into the bend where Mickey’s ass met his thigh and Mickey yelped. “You want it?” he asked roughly and licked him again just to get his point across. 

Mickey nodded and took his hand back to peel his sweaty shirt all the way off and Ian couldn’t look away from the sexy bend of his back or the patches of sweat that made it glisten. 

“Then take it. Grind on it. Then I’ll fuck you good and hard.” Ian didn’t wait for his answer, he moved back down and let his tongue lay flat against him. 

It took less than a second until Mickey slowly started to move against him. Slowly at first, because Ian knew he was nervous. His legs shook and the rhythm was spotty, but Ian groaned all the same. It wasn’t the technique, but the act itself. Mickey was using him to make himself feel good.

Mickey groaned and stopped. “This is stupid.”

Instead of arguing with him, because it was pointless and a waste of time, he pushed his tongue into him, wiggling it back and forth to get deeper. 

“God,” Mickey fell against the table, unable to do anything aside from take it.

Ian growled and he fucked him with his tongue, slowly so Mickey would get impatient. His hand slipped between Mickey’s thighs and slowly stroked his dick, using both to blow his mind as quickly as possible. 

“Shit, fuck…just like that.” Mickey moaned into the crook of his arm. 

Ian pushed his tongue in deeper before he pulled back, slamming it into him as fast as possible until Mickey started to rock back. Pushing against him as much as he could, no longer nervous or unsure. Mickey was chasing that high again. 

“Fuck, stop.” Mickey stopped moving as he panted harshly against the table.

Ian pulled back, kissing over his cheeks as he pulled his hand back. “Ready?” 

“So fucking ready.”

Ian growled as he stood and licked back up his spine and pushed his jeans and boxers down to his shoes. Mickey pushed his shoulders up against his mouth, tilting his head back to watch. 

“Let’s get you ready.” Ian sucked two fingers into his mouth and wiggled them to his hole as he kept kissing up his neck. “How many you want?”

“Don’t care, just do it.” Mickey tilted his jaw as Ian kissed over it. 

Ian studied his face as he pushed them into him. Blue eyes fluttered closed and that pretty mouth opened to moan. Fuck, he was so beautiful like this. With his guard down, so open to all the affection that he craved. Willing to let him give it to him. His own eyes closed to keep that image in his mind for when he would need it later. 

It didn’t matter how good this was, how right it felt, it was goodbye. 

“Ian…Ian…” Mickey’s hand dropped back to grip his thigh. 

Ian pulled his fingers out as he lightly kissed Mickey’s cheek. “I need you Mick.” He took a second to lick his fingers and rub between his cheeks. “I fucking want you.” 

“I know.” Mickey breathed deeply and tightened his grip on Ian’s thigh. “I know.”

Ian felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. Mickey knew he loved him. He fucking knew. That changed all of this. He had intended to do it like this; with Mickey bent over the table but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. 

He pulled back and helped Mickey turn around to face him and he was so fucking beautiful. Face and neck flushed red, eyes heavily lidded and lusty, mouth open as he breathed deeply. 

“Fuck.” Ian groaned and launched himself towards him as he grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him. Mickey gripped his sides and held him back, bringing him closer as they swallowed their 'I love yous’. 

It had to be like this, face to face and he knew Mickey wouldn’t like that. They hardly fucked face to face, there had only been one other time and Mickey didn’t talk to him for two weeks after that. But he needed it now. If this was their last time, he needed to see him. 

Ian bent down and picked Mickey up by his thighs and set him on the table. Their kiss broke fast when Mickey realized what he was doing. Ian didn’t give him a chance to argue. He kissed and sucked a path down his neck, then his chest. Pausing to suck his nipples until they hardened, and Mickey wrapped his legs around his ass.

“I need you like this.” He tilted his head down to spit on the head of his dick as he moved Mickey to the edge. Tattooed hands gripped his shoulders the entire time. “Please baby, just once.”

Mickey nodded without hesitation and pulled him back into a kiss. Ian knew it was a whimper instead of a groan that Mickey swallowed down. Ian put his left arm around his lower back and moved him closer as he rubbed the head around his hole. 

The kiss broke softly as he pushed in slowly. Their heads were pressed together but their eyes were open, and Ian tried to show him all he had to offer in that one look. Mickey cupped his face with one hand and kept him close. 

“Ian,” Mickey groaned as he slipped in further. 

Ian nodded and tightened his arm around Mickey’s back. “I know.” He groaned and kept pushing in slowly until no space kept them apart. Mickey’s thighs rested close to his hips, squeezing him. “You’re so perfect Mickey.” He whispered and gave that rough push forward. “So, so perfect for me.”

“Shhh,” Mickey’s thumb moved to block both of Ian’s lips as he spoke softly. “Just don’t, please don’t.”

Mickey’s voice carried that watery tone he hated to hear. Their bodies may have been doing one thing, but their minds, both of them, was somewhere else, less happy. 

Ian didn’t speak again but kept moving in and out of him. Trying to lose himself in his body, in how tight and hot he was, with the sounds he made and the way he gripped him close each time he pushed in. Mickey’s legs were linked around his hips as he sped up, roughly pushing into him so fast that sound echoed around them. 

“Baby,” Ian whimpered, no longer able to take the silence. He kept up his pace, eagerly watching blue eyes instead of the way his body jolted from each thrust. “Pick me, please.” He kissed the thumb still on his lips. “Please choose me baby.”

Mickey nodded fast, gripping him harder, pulling him closer. Even ignoring that urgent demand to come. “Don’t ask me that.”

Ian slowed until he was barely moving and untangled them, so Mickey was laying back against the table. He easily pulled himself up too as Mickey slid up, so they were both on the table and he was between Mickey’s thighs. One hand moved under Mickey’s back to grip one shoulder and the other on Mickey’s hip as he moved.

“God, you feel so good Mick.” Ian groaned and pushed his head into Mickey’s neck, he took a deep breath. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” Ian whispered as he kissed up his jaw.

Mickey whimpered and tightened his legs. “Fuck, I feel it.” His hands moved to Ian’s ass, digging his nails in as he urged him on. “Wanna come, fuck, want you to come.”

Ian moved until he could kiss him, kissing away any other words he had waiting. Mickey gripped the back of his neck and his ass, demanding more. How he would love to give him more. To give him all of him, all of himself. All the good parts and all the bad. And he wanted Mickey’s too. 

And as much as he wanted this to last forever, it had to come to an end. He broke the kiss as he hooked one of Mickey’s legs up on his shoulder and pushed them to that final edge.

“Right there, fuck that’s it.” Mickey put his hands on Ian’s stomach, digging his nails in. “Oh God, fuck, shit…”

Ian moved one hand between them, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. “Gotta come for me baby,” he moved faster, chasing his own high. “Fuck, I can’t—please Mick.”

Mickey nodded. “Right now, fuck…fuck!”

Ian watched him come, slicking his hand as his face distorted into that beautiful mask of pure pleasure. The soft sound of his name on Mickey’s lips is what set him off. 

“Baby,” Ian closed his eyes and pressed his face into Mickey’s neck as he came, moving into him hard but slowly as his body shook. “God.” 

Heavy breathing filled the space that their groans left behind. Making it echo off the walls and back to them. Ian let Mickey’s leg slide back down to lock around him and lifted his body to look down. It wasn’t possible, but Mickey looked even more incredible then had 3 seconds ago. 

But it was over now. They would get up, argue or cry, probably both and part ways. Left with nothing. Mickey wouldn’t be his anymore. 

“Ian,” Mickey spoke up and his voice was raw with emotion. “I don’t have a choice here…”

Ian nodded and the first of the tears slipped out and landed on his flushed cheek. He swept it away with his thumb.

“But if I did, I would pick you.”

Another tear fell and tattooed fingers were there to brush it away as they pulled his head back down. Now face to face and Ian could see how shiny his eyes were. “I love you more than anything Mickey.” He spoke softly before he pulled away and stood up. 

Mickey didn’t reply, he sat up as he moved around to grab a towel on the sink and cleaned himself up before he walked back. He didn’t toss it to Mickey, he stood between his legs and cleaned up his chest, made him lift one leg up on the table to clean the rest off and tossed it aside.

They silently put their clothes on. Very aware of Ian’s confession and Mickey’s reaction to it. Ian even helped him fix his shirt, making sure each button was done up right and his bow tie was straight. Even dusted off his suit jacket and helped him put it on. 

All in silence.

But they couldn’t get distracted anymore. Now they stood in front of each other. Ian was the one who was having a hard time meeting his eyes this time. Nothing hurt worse than being left hanging. Well, maybe not nothing, Mickey getting married trumped it all.

“Goddamn Gallagher, gotta get you pissed off more often.” Mickey smirked, unsuccessfully trying to lighten the mood. 

Ian smiled sadly and lit a cigarette. It was a last ditch attempt, but he had to try anyways. “So, what are we gonna do? Are we gonna tell everyone to leave?”

Mickey looked away and shook his head. “No,” Mickey took the smoke and took a drag, “gotta get this shit over with.” He turned to leave. “Wanna wait here for me? Shouldn’t take longer than an hour. Then you better be ready for round two.”

Playing it off like it didn’t matter was Mickey’s specialty for when shit got too heavy. But it didn’t work. They both knew he wouldn’t wait there for him. There would be no round two, well, maybe if Mickey left with him right now. But it wouldn’t happen.

“You’re not seriously going through with this, are you?” Ian knew he was, but he was double checking, quadruple checking. 

“You know I don’t have a choice in this.” Mickey kept walking, leading them back into the room they started out in.

Ian followed, unable to give up. “This is bullshit Mickey.” He grabbed both of his arms. “You love me.”

Ian said it with so much confidence that Mickey didn’t argue. They both knew it was true. 

“And if I did? So what. You think that changes a damn thing?” Mickey asked, lifting his eyebrows. 

Ian nodded and cupped his face. “It changes everything baby, everything.” He kissed him with his eyes open just to see Mickey’s close. “I know we can make this work. I’ll do anything I can.”

The sound of a door opening and heels clicking down the hall, let him know Mandy had stalled as long as she could. He quickly dug in his pocket, for what he brought. 

“Here, this is for you.” He passed him the little black ring box and watched Mickey’s eyes get 10 times larger than normal. “You know we can do this baby,” he gripped his face and let them enjoy one more moment of touching, “when you realize it, I’ll be waiting in our spot.”

The clicking came closer and Ian backed towards the back door as tears dripped down his face. Mickey held the box tightly in his fist and never took his eyes away. 

“Mickey!!” 

Mickey flinched at Mandy's tone but didn’t look away. “Ian…”

Ian smiled through tears and slowly walked out the door, leaving Mickey to deal with Mandy and to make a choice, living a lie with someone who doesn’t love him, who never would. Or to be with him, the only person that has ever loved him for who he is. 

**

Ian was on his second bottle of beer and half a pack of smokes later and Mickey hadn’t showed. It had been nearly two hours ago. For some reason, Ian figured Mickey would be there within that first hour. Tell the guests to fuck off, then walk to the field. Simple.

So he didn’t drink the six pack he brought for them. But after that, it was free game. He went slowly, trying to pass time with drinking but he didn’t want to be so drunk he couldn’t function. 

He’d screamed at the world, cursing whoever the fuck was in charge. Then came the tears, giant ones. Ones that came fast and unstoppable. He cried until his head hurt and his eyes were dry. Now he just sat here, looking out of the fence and up into the sky.

He wanted to ask why someone would create love if it hurt so much. Why would they, him, her, whoever the fuck, make it so hard for him and Mickey to be together? Why did someone take the other away just as happiness came?

Ian didn’t know, not even at the bottle of that next bottle. He tossed it aside and closed his eyes. Just when he was about to give up, to pack it all away, all the memories and the tears and pain and pleasure, he heard the chain link fence rattle.

Ian opened his eyes to see Mickey slowly making his way over the top. A smile bloomed on his face, so wide he thought it might split his entire face. Mickey came for him. Mickey chose him. 

Until he dropped to the ground with a painful hiss and turned around. 

“Oh my God,” Ian whispered and stood up.

Mickey’s face was nearly black and blue. One black eye, the other doing its best to keep the tears back. He had a bloody lip and scratches all over his face. Bloody knuckles, one even looked crooked. Probably broken. One arm he kept close to his body, like it hurt too much to move it further away. 

“Mickey—”

Mickey walked forward a little, wincing with each step. “Sorry I’m late.”

Ian smiled through the silent tears and stepped close enough to touch the side of his cheek, right over one of the cuts. “Baby, what happened?” His voice broke as Mickey closed his eyes and nuzzled into his palm.

Mickey lifted his left hand and in a low voice, he answered. “I made a choice.”

Ian’s bottom lip trembled as he looked down and took Mickey’s offered hand with his own. And there it what. The thing that made all this shit worth it, all the pain and smiles and punches, all the times he had to see Mickey with someone else or lie about his feelings. 

It was all worth it to see that ring wrapped around his finger.

Nothing too flashy, or girlie. Or manly because for Mickey, even the manliest ring was too gay for him. Just a dark grey tungsten band, a little shiny under the streetlamp but to the everyday person, it didn’t look like anything special. But it was real for them, a promise. Not for marriage, but that Mickey made a choice. One that Ian would never forget.

“Oh, baby,” Ian brought Mickey’s hand up to his cheek and closed his eyes. “I can’t believe this shit is real.”

Mickey snorted. “Considering I just had my ass beaten for you, twice; I might add, it better fuckin be real.”

Ian smiled and kissed the ring before he opened his eyes and see that Mickey’s eyes were definitely shiny. But they weren’t tears because Mickey didn’t cry. But he would take an ass beatin for him, twice, just to be there.

“I promise on everything I don’t have,” he smiled when Mickey scuffed, but he had that smile in the corner of his mouth; Ian didn’t have a bunch of shit. “And what I do have, that this shit is real baby, it’s always been real.”

Mickey Milkovich loved him; of that he was sure.


	2. Mickey's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's POV on the day before the wedding and when Ian shows up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse all mistakes, still going over it

3x11  
Mickey's POV

Mickey sat in a pair of ratty sweats in the dark of his room, cigarette burning away from lack of use and the cracked window allowed the smoke to float out into the sky. The half empty whiskey bottle warm from being pressed between his legs each time he took a drink. 

It didn’t matter how many swigs he took, or the amount of cigarettes he burned through, or the five unlit joints from Kev on his side table, nothing would be able to change what would happen tomorrow. The worst day of his fucking life, the day his ‘freedom' was gone. Not like he was free now, or before. But it would be official now. He had to act the part.

It wasn’t like his life was going to get any better being married. About the same really. He would go from fucking whores, multiple, to one whore, his very own. He would have to deal with her crazy Russian ass in his house, all up in his space and business. Barking demands about the baby he didn’t want or ask for. He would still be a psycho closet case, too ashamed and afraid to be with the one person who loved him all the time.

It wasn’t his fault that, that someone was a guy. Ian fucking Gallagher. Crazy ass South Side piece of trash, just like him. Only, if Ian was trash, he was absolute shit. Ian was everything he wasn’t. Out and proud to be gay, unafraid of what other fuckheads thought or said. Ian wasn’t the type to start a fight the second someone hounded his sexuality, but he was no push over. He could fight with the best of them, only Ian preferred to flaunt the shit that made some people uncomfortable. It was a ‘fuck you’ with a little flare. 

He did not deserve someone like Ian and the world thought so too since he was being punished. 

Mickey tossed the dead cigarette out the widow and lit up another one. More for comfort than the need to smoke. When his phone vibrated next to him, he let it ring. Ian had been calling him non-stop for over a week, ever since he decided to lash out and beat the shit out of him, that kick to the face made his stomach curl when he thought about it. 

Ian made it clear that he would fight for them, for him. That he didn’t give a flying fuck what Terry wanted. Ian didn’t care that he knocked Svetlana up, to him, she was worse than his dad for what she’d done. Mickey didn’t like to admit it, but that’s what woke him up tonight. 

Not the thought that he wouldn’t be with Ian, because he wasn’t with Ian. But because of her. All he could see was her straddling his lap and being forced to fuck her. Willing his mind to stay on Ian and not her just so his shit didn’t flag the moment she touched him. Even being bloody and broken hadn’t mattered compared to that. 

A chill worked its way down his spine and forced him to take another drink. It didn’t even burn as he swallowed it down, that dissolved about 10 swigs ago and still he felt like shit. Tomorrow was it, his fucking wedding. There was no way out of it, not other option, not even the phone ringing yet again. Ian’s picture showed on the front of his phone, that crooked jaw and bright green eyes haunting him, showing him what he could have, what he did have. What he had all along. Ian wanted him, all of him. Even without the ability to show his true emotions, or affections. Even when he couldn’t admit what they both knew was true.

That he loved Ian Gallagher. Red hair and all. 

The main reason why he was doing this, throwing that red hair and green eyes and gay love out the window, sat on his side table. Mickey leaned to the side and snatched it up before it could roll off the side. 

The bullet.

His one and only reason for going through with this. This is the bullet Terry tossed to him after he kicked Svetlana and Ian out that day. Tossed it at him told him this was his last chance. That he would do the right thing and propose to her, like any straight man would have. According to Terry, Svetlana was beautiful, and he should be grateful to have her. 

Being a whore aside, even her raping him aside, he couldn’t feel it with her. He can act straight all he wanted to, lie about it. Even to Ian. To claim he wasn’t gay. But it was all a lie. His body didn’t crave soft curves and big tits, it craved a crooked jaw, broad shoulders and 9 inches. It didn’t matter how ‘pretty' she was. It wasn’t for him.

Mickey tossed the bullet up into the air and caught it again and again. It was almost funny that his death was actually in the palm of his hand. If he had to chose between a bullet or her, he’d choose the bullet. Even told Terry that. And that bastard knew that would be his answer. So Terry tossed him a second bullet, one specifically for Ian. 

That bullet he kept in the pocket of his jeans. He couldn’t even look at the damn thing without crying like a bitch. Since when did he get so soft? Since when did he give a shit about anyone other than himself? Now he cared about Ian Gallagher? What the fuck was happening to him?

Ian was doing worse than he was at the moment. Mickey knew that for sure. He had been trying to avoid the ginger giant for weeks, unable to look at the bruises on his face or let Ian see his shame. Ian was still trying to get ahold of him. Even stooping so low that he was helping Mandy set up for this wedding. How fucked up was that? He helping your best friend set up the wedding for the love of your life, just for him to marry someone else?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Mickey sighed into the dark room and tossed the bullet back on the table. 

This time when his phone rang, it wasn’t Ian’s picture that popped up, but Lip Gallagher’s. Mickey balanced the cigarette between his lips, passed the bottle his other hand and answered his phone.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” he hiccupped at the end of his ruder than normal greeting, but he didn’t care. He was in actual hell and not as drunk as he needed to be.

“Yeah, fuck you too Mickey.” Lip scuffed. “Look, is there anyway you can call this shit off?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah sure, let me get right on that Gallagher. Just because you asked so nice.”

“Seriously Mickey, is there?”

Mickey sighed heavily and rubbed his hand down his face. The angry, smart ass tone left, and Lip was actually being serious. “If I could, I would have two weeks ago. In case you haven’t noticed, my dad has a bullet with my fuckin name on it if this doesn’t happen.”

“Shit,” Lip sighed, “it’s bad Mickey. It’s really bad.”

Mickey took the phone away from his ear and leaned his head against the wall. Let’s get one thing straight here, he and Lip were not friends. Not even a little bit. Lip was an asshole who thought Ian deserved better and he was right. He thought Lip was a bigger asshole with his head up Mandy's ass and only cared about himself, also true. But Lip calling showed him how bad ‘really bad' was. To reach out like this, the night before trying to figure out a way to keep it from happening, made him realize Ian was worse than he expected.

“Where is he?” Mickey asked when he picked the phone back up. Lip was the only one aside from Svetlana that knew about him and Ian and their non-relationship.

“On a Goddamn war path. Been drinkin since he got back from helpin Mandy set that shit up,” Lip paused. “Which was fucked up by the way.”

“I didn’t ask him to help out Lip, that’s my bitch of a sister.” He shouted back but cringed when he heard Terry’s slurred voice telling him to shut up. “Knock his ass out or something, fuck. Use your imagination.”

“I’m not gonna do that. It’s the only thing keeping him from busting that place down tomorrow and telling the whole world about you two.”

Mickey lifted the bottle and took a long drink, drinks. Many of them. “He can’t come tomorrow.” Mickey whispered as he eyed the unlocked door. “If Terry sees him there…”

“Don’t you worry about Terry. If he lays a hand on my brother I’m kickin everyone’s ass who has Milkovich as their name.” 

Mickey smirked and puffed on his cigarette before he tossed it out. Lip was an asshole, but he was a loyal one. “Just do whatever you have to and don’t fuckin call me again. I can’t change this shit so don’t bother trying.”

“Maybe this is good then, yeah?” Lip asked, a light growl to his voice. “Once you’re off the market, playin the straight game of life, he might find someone who deserves all his fucking effort.”

Mickey pulled the phone away from his face to see the ‘call ended' message beeping at him. That mother fucker. He tossed the phone aside and stood up, pacing the short distance from his door to the window and back again. Lip knew just what to say to push his fucking buttons. And Lip was probably right, the bastard. Ian deserved more and he would find it, no doubt. As soon as Ian forgot about him, the world would form a line. 

“Fuck.” He groaned, a little panicked. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want Ian to bounce from ass to ass until he found someone he wanted more than him. “Shit, shit!” he tugged at his hair and grabbed his phone to look at Ian’s picture. 

Was it worth it? Was he worth it? How long would he wait when he realized they could never be together as he could be with someone else? Someone else would be granted access to that sweet smile or the way his eyes gave that little gay twinkle when he managed to do something not so mean. Someone else would have Ian worrying over them day and night, trying everything possible to make them happy, to make them smile. 

Someone else would be loved by Ian Gallagher. 

Mickey wasn’t stupid, he knew Ian loved him. Probably from day one when he threatened to beat his ass for that shit with Mandy. The guy didn’t hide it from anyone. Mickey felt it the most when their clothes came of and he had Ian lightly panting in his ear, or the way Ian always managed to link their hands together before they were done. Mickey knew each time he kissed up his neck, then his ear or the way he buried his face in the hair at the base of his head, breathing deeply like he could keep him there.

Ian Gallagher fucking loved him. 

And how did he repay that love? With homophobic sneers and lashes, beating his ass or threatening to. Unable to hold his hand or kiss him like he wanted. More like unwilling. Lying to him, making Ian think he meant nothing, 'nothing but a warm mouth' were his words exactly. Hell, he couldn’t even lose his clothes all the way for Ian to see him, and the time he gave into it and did, Terry….

Yeah, Terry did a bunch of shit.

Mickey turned his phone off and slipped off his sweats to put on jeans and shoes. He kept the tank top and added a ripped up jacket. One knife strapped to his ankle, smokes and joints and he was climbing out the window.

No one would know he left. No one cared if he was gone. Well, Ian did. He always did. 

The walk to their house took less time than he wanted. The entire time, he thought of what the fuck he was going to say to them, to him. He had nothing. Nothing he was able to say, nothing he could do. He just didn’t have the fucking words Ian did. His shit would come out fucking mean and hateful. That’s what he was used to, until Ian. Ian showed him there was more than that. So much more.

Instead of just busting right in, just in case he was a pussy like Terry said he was and couldn’t actually go up there, he crept into Kev's yard and moved in the shadows of the house to stay away from the porch light. 

Lip and Ian sat out front, Ian somehow balancing his gigantic ass on the railing like a damn cat with his back to the wall, Lip took the stairs and they each had a bottle of some sort of cheap liquor, cheap but effective. Smoke slithered into the sky and the smell let him know they weren’t cigarettes. 

“I should go see him.”

Mickey’s body seemed to come to life at Ian’s voice. Sending a chill down his back that had nothing to do with the fucking weather. 

“You know you can’t Ian.”

Mickey moved closer, making sure not to step on the empty beer cans that Ian let fall to the ground. He hated Lip’s reasonable tone, especially since their phone call.

“I love him Lip.”

“Shit.” Mickey leaned against the bricks and closed his eyes. Those words, so easily said about him, it fucking hurt. It hurt that Ian wanted him like that, it hurt because maybe he kinda wanted Ian like that too. 

“Maybe you should head to bed, yeah?”

Mickey opened his eyes to see Ian halfway leaning off the railing. If he would have tipped over, Mickey knew he’d be off that wall and there to catch him. Which was really fuckin gay. 

He watched Lip shuffle Ian through the door, heard a bunch of laughing for Lip as Ian probably fell against the couch, then crying from Ian, probably when reality combined with too much booze finally hit him at full speed. 

“You can come out now.”

Mickey cursed and pushed against the wall, hopped the small fence and lit a joint on the way to the steps. Lip would know he was there. Bastard practically dared him to come, more like conned him. 

“That didn’t sound too bad.” Mickey moved to sit on the bottom step as Lip took up Ian’s seat, probably trying to get as much space between them as possible. “From that call, I expected a sawed off and a hockey mask as he tore his way into the VFW.”

Lip scuffed. “You’re a real prick, you know that?”

Mickey nodded. “Yeah, tell me some shit I don’t fuckin know already.” He quirked his eyebrow as he glanced up and couldn’t fault Lip for scowling at him. 

“You love him.”

Lip said it with just as much conviction as Ian did. It was a little scary. Creepy. Maybe even accurate. 

“Funny way if showing it, no?” he shook his head, unwilling to admit it to Lip Gallagher of all people. If he ever said that shit, it would be to himself first, then Ian…maybe. “Can’t tell me that all the shit I do spells love.”

“It does actually,” Lip chuckled. “One phone call, from someone you hate, I might add, and you’re here before I hang up my phone.”

Mickey clenched his jaw.

“Tell me what that says.”

“It says fuck you Gallagher,” he flicked the joint into the yard as he stood up. “You’re so smart, hmm? Fix this shit then? Make it okay for him again.”

Lip shook his head. “I won’t clean up your mess because you’re too much of a pussy to stand up to your dad.”

Mickey was up the stairs and had Lip pushed against the wall before he exhaled the smoke. The words were right on the tip of his tongue, the words he needed to prove Lip was wrong. But he didn’t know them. They wouldn’t come out. Because it was a lie. He was a pussy.

“You know he’s worth it,” Lip growled into his face. “Anyone who falls in love with someone who doesn’t deserve it, is worth it.”

Mickey shoved him away and took up pacing the yard. He wasn’t sure how long he did it for, but Lip hadn’t said anything else and he didn’t punch his stupid face, so he wouldn’t complain. 

By the time he turned around to tell Lip he was right, which he would never admit to if someone asked him, Lip was gone. He was alone. Mickey quietly made his way up the steps and was surprised to find the door cracked. 

The house was dark, quiet. Lip might be lurking like a douche bag or went to bed, either way it didn’t stop him from walking to the couch. Ian was barely on the damn thing. Both legs were on the floor, wet shoes on. His head was propped up in the corner, smashing his neck. 

“Jesus Christ Ian…” he huffed but it ended up a light chuckle. 

First thing Mickey did was take both his socks and shoes off, both wet and cold. Then, he used all the strength he had to pull Ian’s body down the couch until his head hit the cushion, then flopped both legs down the length of the couch. He thought about taking his jeans off, but that would be weird as fuck and Ian was a heavy bastard. So, he left them. 

Mickey sat on the rickety table, pushing beer cans and food off to the other side and stared at him. To someone who didn’t know Ian like he did, they would say he looked fine, just tired. The only thing Ian was tired of was his bullshit. And the lies and secrets. Ian wasn’t fine. His face and neck were flushed from the heat of alcohol and the cold breeze outside, his hair looked a little greasy like he forgot to shower, too much shit to do, like set up for his wedding. Jesus. Even from the next yard, Mickey could tell his eyes were puffy and red from crying. Not just a few tears either, but the kind that fall when your life was coming to an end.

And it was all his fault. 

Mickey leaned over and put a shaky hand on the side of Ian’s face and that bastard leaned into it. Nuzzling it like a damn cat. It was so sweet and so fucking gay that he smiled and moved his thumb over his cheekbone.

“You need to fix this.”

Mickey huffed at Lip’s words but didn’t jerk his hand back. “You need to stop being a creepy fuck.” He brushed over one red eyebrow and took his hand back. “When you have a way to do that, call me.”

He stood and moved to the door, but Lip spoke again before he could leave.

“It’ll take some time, but he’ll get over you. Maybe it’ll be when he goes tomorrow and sees it, or when she moves into your house, but I bet it’ll be when you hold that baby for the first time.”

Mickey felt bile rise in his throat. 

“But he will, and you’ll hate yourself more than you already do.”

Mickey turned and told himself that he wouldn’t let the tears fall. Lip would never forget it. He dug into his pocket instead and grabbed the bullet. He let it roll around in his hand before he tossed it to him.

Lip caught it with a flick of his arm. “What the hell is this for?”

Mickey leaned against the door and kept his voice low, so Lip didn’t hear the annoying emotion in it. “That bullet is for Ian.”

“Excuse me?” Lip glared at him.

“Yeah, I might as well have carved his fuckin name into it.” He took a breath and forced himself to say it. “That is Ian’s future if tomorrow doesn’t happen. Terry made sure of it. I have one too.”

Lip’s eyebrows rose.

“Yeah, I left mine at home. You know why smart ass?” Lip lived up to the smart part and didn’t open up his fat fucking mouth. “I left mine because I would happily eat a bullet rather than marry that fucking twat.”

“Okay, so…?”

“I told him that, then he tossed that one to me and said it was for Ian if I didn’t do it.” He turned and faced to door to rub away the moisture in the corner of his eyes before he turned back. “So, you willing to risk his life, the one I don’t deserve by the way, so Ian can get a single moment of happiness before that crazy bastard hunts us down?”

Lip closed his fist around the bullet. “So what, just let it happen? Fuck on the side like you always do?”

Mickey really hoped Ian hadn't shared that much about their fuck fests. “If you think this is what I want, you really don’t know a damn thing about me.” With that, letting Lip keep the bullet to remind him, he turned back around. “Talk him into not going tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Mickey nodded, gave one last longing look at Ian, wanting so bad to go over and wake him up and make promises that he couldn’t keep. He wanted to do things that he was afraid to do. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. All he could do, was hope Ian actually stayed home tomorrow and remembered how much he cared for him, even when he hadn't said it yet, and walked out of that door.

Maybe for the last time.

**

Ian hadn’t called again. Not even as the day wasted away, and people began to gather for the wedding. 

Mickey hadn’t slept after he left Ian’s. How could he? He had too much shit on his mind and way more shit weighing down his heart. So, he drank and smoked and when Terry passed out, pretty much slipping into a coma, he climbed out the window and yelled into the sky. Damning everyone and anyone who was responsible for this shit. Be it the world, or God, Terry or Svetlana, or himself for being this way, he cursed everyone. 

And it did nothing.

No miracle came when he admitted it under the dark of the moon, or when the sun slowly made it’s way into the sky, when he admitted that he loved Ian Gallagher. Total gay love, all the time. The kisses and the stupid sweet shit he said, how softly he handled him when it mattered or when Ian called him 'baby' he hated to love it and he loved to hate it. 

It felt good to admit it, for all of about ten seconds he allowed himself to smile…then the tears came. They came because he knew what they had was real, from the moment it started, it was real. Painful and a little ugly, blood and broken and soft, but it was real.

And he couldn’t have it. 

That’s how Mandy found him. Slumped against the side of the house with a picture of Ian on his phone. He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t high or mad. He was just broken. She helped him in, made him shower and eat and nap before all that shit started.

Woke him up and when he saw that Ian didn’t call, he wanted to fall back asleep and dream of green eyes and a crooked jaw. 

Where did that leave him right now? It left him pacing the floor of the basement of the VFW. Smoke after smoke didn’t help. The few shots Mandy brought down didn’t either. When they arrived, he didn’t greet people with a fake smile. He didn’t even acknowledge Svetlana, but he did slap the shot glass from her hand in a room full of people.

After that, he kept to the lower level. Pacing and drinking every now and then, smoking like a damn chimney. Looking at his phone, getting pissed that Ian didn’t call, paced some more, looked again. Another cigarette. It was repetitive and it was driving him inside. 

Mickey brought the smoke up to his lips and shoved his phone back into his pocket, then the door open and there he was. Wearing the same jeans and shoes from last night, eyes still as red as they ever were, and he looked so fucking amazing. 

Something changed though. Ian came through, looking like he was the best sight in the entire world, and now he looked pissed the fuck off, jaw tightening as he stepped forward and their little fight/fuck rule was about to happen.

“You call me a punk or whatever for wanting a boyfriend, but you’re gonna marry someone who screws guys for a living?”

The tone was harsh, like a whip twirling around his body and squeezing tight. He needed to show Ian how much he hated this, but this, emotions and shit, he was so fucking bad at. 

“Who gives a shit? It’s a fucking piece of paper.” He moved forward, unable to stop looking at him. 

It was more than paper. It was prison. Plain and simple. It was control. Terry’s control over him, over Ian. Using fear and the love he had for Ian to get his way. 

Even now, seeing Ian break over those words, even knowing it was a lie, he couldn’t just break down and tell him. Three words, only three.

“Not to me.”

The words were so light, instead of giving that deep sigh he felt, it came out as a scuff. Fuck, that was about the worst, well, maybe not THE worst thing he could do, but it was damn close, and Ian turned away, ready to leave.

“Hey, come on—look, just cuz I’m getting hitched doesn’t me we can’t still bang.”

Really? That was as close as he could get to saying he wasn’t gonna stop what they had? That he didn’t want it to stop? Fuck, he needed some serious fucking help. But, it couldn’t have been THAT bad because Ian turned and walked back over. “Alright?”

“If you give half a shit about me,” 

Ian spoke harshly as he pushed forward and Mickey had to put a hand on his chest, or nearly on his chest to keep him back. “Hey-hey.” 

But Ian wouldn’t let himself be stopped, he kept walking and talking as if he hadn’t tried to stop him. 

“Half, don’t do this.” Ian pleaded.

Oh God. Why? Why the eyes, the puppy dog eyes, the watery green eyes? Why did he have so much emotion in four words? Ian was begging him, pleading with him not to do this. He couldn’t explain why. He didn’t know how, and he doubted Ian would even believe him if he did. But there was one thing be could do to show him that he didn’t want this. That he wanted him and not her. 

When he moved forward, Ian flinched like he would hit him. Mickey ignored how bad that felt and put his hand on the back of his neck and kissed him. And it was good, it was so fucking good. 

Ian groaned into his mouth. That deep growl that sent chills down his spine. He moved back, away from the door and Ian grabbed his waist, then one side of his face and deepened the kiss, moving with him. 

The further he walked, the harder Ian kissed him, the tighter he held him, like he would float the fuck away. He was so wrapped in the newer sensations of kissing, that he missed the open doorway and bumped against the frame. 

Ian bumped against him, grinding his hips forward, allowing him to feel what was waiting for him. Mickey groaned into his mouth and pulled them the rest of the way inside. This was going to happen. First it was the fighting, at least that didn’t last too long. Then it was the fucking. Although, Mickey wasn’t sure he would call it just fucking anymore. Since he stopped being stubborn and let Ian kiss him, it felt different. Better, closer. Something. And he fucking craved that like a cigarette in the morning. 

And he needed it now. To show Ian what he wanted. Him. Them. Naked and together and so fucking close to each other nothing would get in the way. 

Mickey broke the kiss and quickly peeled his jacket down his body, licking his lips as Ian did the same and his shirt lifted enough for him to see his hips. He kept backing up until a table pushed against his ass, bracing him. 

Mickey smirked at that dark look in Ian’s eyes, the look that followed him as he unbuttoned his slacks. “What the fuck you waitin on Gallagher?” he taunted as he leaned back. “We don’t have all day here.”

The sound of heavy laughter made Ian look up, that smirk on his face as he spoke. “Hear that? They don’t even know you’re gone.” 

Mickey shivered at that cocky tone as Ian inched forward and popped the button on his own jeans and yanked them open so he could see the light happy trail that lead into his boxers. 

He really wanted Ian to take his damn shirt off. Mickey wanted it to come off the second his jacket did. He wanted to see the broad sweep of his shoulders, strong enough to pick him up whenever he felt like it. His chest and stomach riddled with muscles, hard to the touch, under soft freckled skin, tinted pink from arousal. 

“I think I can have all the time I want.”

Mickey scuffed at the overly cocky tone, but Ian saw him smile. “You gonna get on me then? Stop with the chit chat?”

Ian did as he always did, he crowded into his space. Somehow unable to be so far away from him in moments like these. Ian put both hands on the table behind him as he shook his head, trapping him and leaned in until their noses brushed together.

“I’m going to take you apart Mickey.”

Mickey knew he flushed red and tried to move away but Ian didn’t let him.

“You don’t get to walk away this time baby.”

Fuck. There it was. The one word guaranteed to make him raging hard and pissed off at the same time. He was so fucking weak for Ian when he said that. A switch flipped inside of him and turned him soft when he heard it, softer. 

Mickey growled and shoved at his chest but wanted to pull him closer as well. “I told you to cut that shit out. M'not your fuckin baby.”

Mickey bit back his groan as Ian gripped his arms, then slid down his chest and fuck, he wished he took a second to peel his shirt off. 

“This might be the last time I get to fuck you for a while, the least you can do is admit it. You are my baby.”

Mickey let that moan slip and even to him it sounded so soft. It made Ian smile because they both knew he was Ian’s baby whether he liked it or not. 

Ian’s hands moved smoothly as they unbuttoned each button on his shirt and peeled it over his shoulders. He let out a deep breath as Ian leaned in close, close enough to kiss. “I know you want it Mick.”

He wanted to kiss the thumb that moved over his lips as Ian spoke. 

“I can see it. I can smell it.”

Mickey let Ian turn his face and his eyes shut as he breathed him in. It made his entire body ache. He needed Ian so fucking bad. He needed rough hands and dirty words and soft kisses. 

“Fuck baby,” Ian groaned. “I can smell it on you.”

Mickey licked his lips as Ian breathed hard against him. “Just hurry before someone walks in.” Ian only licked a slow, wet trail down his neck, making his dick pulse and his heart pound. Then slowly kissed his way back up. His hands tangled into the front of Ian’s shirt, holding on.

Ian pushed his hips forward. “You feel me?”

Mickey groaned, a truly desperate sound and nodded. It had him spreading his legs wider, ready for more. “Stop teasing, fuck.”

Ian put a foot between his legs and spread him wider and he knew Ian could feel how hard he was, and he fucking let him know he could and moved again.

“Nice and hard for me.”

He was getting too worked up. Showing it so easily. Spreading wider for him, groaning and holding onto him. He was so needy for it and he lashed out, pushed Ian back enough to pace a few feet, but he couldn’t look away from him. 

“We don’t have time for this shit.”

Ian growled. “Fine. Turn around and show me what I need to see.”

Mickey stopped pacing as that deep growl left him breathless. He swallowed thickly and did as Ian said. He bent over the table, his pants open and ready. He heard Ian walk closer, and suddenly a wrinkled, Ian smelling shirt landed above his face.

Mickey jerked his head to the side and eagerly traced every line from his jaw, down to his hips where his clothes refused to fall. Ian caught him looking and smirked because fuck, he was so goddamned sexy it shouldn’t have been possible. Of course Ian had to make it better and worse by slowly pulling down his jeans. 

The second Ian pushed against him, he leaned his head against the cool table and took a deep breath. He was so fucking hard. So close he could feel everything. Ian’s hands pushed up his shirt, making it bunch against his shoulders. 

He nearly came the moment Ian licked up his spine, making him breakout in goosebumps. As Ian pushed his pants down, and kissed over his lower back, then his ass, he knelt behind him and helped him kick his pants and his shoes away. 

Mickey groaned and slammed one fist against the table, making it rattle on its wheels. “Fuck, just hurry.”

“Always in such a damn hurry.” 

Mickey bit his lip as Ian slipped his boxers down, letting out that deep growl again.

“Not gonna go any further until I have a taste.”

Mickey groaned, Ian and that damn mouth. How easily he took him apart just from talking. Saying all those dirty things he was too scared to say and ask for, but how bad he wanted them. 

It had him pushing his body back, seeking out his mouth. “Do what you want, fuck.” He licked his dry lips as he softly painted. “Just do it.”

Mickey blushed as Ian spread his ass open. Ian was able to see everything and by the sound of that loud groan, the sound he made every fucking time, Ian loved it.

“Fuck baby.”

Ian licked him slowly, from his balls to his hole. He started to squirm against the table, gripping the sides until his knuckles popped. Ian didn’t take it easy on him. He licked and sucked him, biting across his ass and gripped him hard, trying to keep him still.

“Shit!” Mickey reached back and grabbed ahold of his head, holding him closer. 

It was such a bitch move. All of it. He never thought Ian’s mouth against him like that would feel that fucking good. He had been addicted from the first moment Ian did it. And how did he reward him when Ian made him come like that? He punched him in the gut and stopped talking to him for three days. 

He was ashamed of wanting it so much. Of needing the feeling of Ian’s tongue wiggling against him, making him come without touching his dick. 

Ian moved until he held his hips in a firm grip. He could hardly move an inch away. 

“Grind on my tongue.”

Pleasure shot down his back, nailing him in his lower back. He shook his head and refused to let Ian see how much he wanted it. “Just shut up and keep going.” He yelped when Ian sunk his teeth into his skin.

“You want it?” he licked him again.

Mickey nodded as he moved his hand away and jerked the shirt off his body. 

“Then take it. Grind on it. Then I’ll fuck you good and hard.”

Mickey gasped as the words hit his ears and Ian’s tongue rested against him again. He couldn’t hide it anymore. The fight to show he hated it was too exhausting. He didn’t hate it, he fucking craved it. 

His legs shook as he moved against Ian’s tongue. Pushing roughly against him at the wrong angle but it felt too good to stop. It wasn’t until Ian groaned that he felt his entire body flush with embarrassment from lack of skill. 

“This is stupid.” He hissed and stopped moving. Ian didn’t reply, he simple kept going, but pushed his tongue inside him and wiggled it fast. “God!” he fell against the table, unable to move. 

Ian was fucking his ass with his tongue. Pushing it deep until his dick leaked, then shallowly until his legs shook. All he could do was lay there and take everything Ian gave him. It was just about over the second Ian’s hand moved to his dick, slowly jerking him off. “Shit, fuck…just like that.” He nearly screamed as he buried his face into his arm. It was too much. Both at the same time, holy fuck.

Before he knew it, Mickey was pushing back against his tongue when Ian didn’t go fast enough, fucking onto it like he did a dick.

He was so close, so fucking close. “Fuck, stop.”

Ian pulled back and he was panting against the table. Ian pulled back, kissing up his cheeks. “Ready?”

Mickey only had one answer. “So fucking ready.”

Ian licked his way back up his body, tasting sweat and it seemed to urge him to go faster. Kissing up his shoulders. Mickey leaned up into it, shivering and tilted his head back to look.

“Let’s get you ready.” 

Ian sucked two fingers, getting them as wet as he could and kissed up his neck, then his cheek. 

“How many do you want?” 

Mickey tilted his head and groaned as Ian kissed along his jaw. “Don’t care, just do it.” 

Oh, but he did care. He wanted all of those thick, long fingers. Pushing into him, stretching him open to be able to take him. Pushing in deep to hit his prostate until he begged to be fucked. 

As Ian pushed them in, his eyes closed as he moaned, unable to hide it for the moment. He wanted to rock back and take them deeper, to beg for more. 

It felt so fucking good. But he knew what this was. It was a goodbye fuck. One last chance to be together and it fucking hurt.

It didn’t matter how much it hurt to say goodbye, his body was pulling him further into this. Into Ian. Each time he pushed his fingers in, it got him so much closer. “Ian…Ian…” he moved his hand back to grip his thigh in warning. 

Ian pulled his fingers out and left a kiss on his cheek. “I need you Mick.” 

Mickey felt saliva coating Ian’s fingers as he lubed him up.

“I fucking want you.”

His grip tightened. He knew Ian wanted him. And not just for this, but for all the time. Every day he needed him. Because he needed Ian just as much.

“I know,” he whispered against his lips. “I know.”

Suddenly, Ian was turning him around to face him. He knew what Ian wanted and as much as he wanted it, it was too much. He blushed because Ian would be able to see every emotion on his face if they fucked like this. He wouldn’t be able to hide it. 

Before he could tell him all the reasons why he couldn’t, Ian kissed him with both hands on his face. He groaned and held into his sides, feeling his skin and his ability to say no to what Ian was about to ask. 

Ian bent down and picked him up easily and sat him on the table. His legs moved to rest against Ian’s hips as their kiss broke. Ian didn’t give him any time to argue. He sucked and licked from his neck to his chest, making his body shake as he sucked on his nipples. 

“I need you like this.” He leaned back to spit on his dick and Mickey’s legs locked around his ass. “Please baby, just once.”

The desperation in his voice let Mickey know he really fucking needed it like this. He nodded because he wanted to see Ian too. He always did. He pulled Ian into another kiss before more painful shit spewed out and Ian whimpered into his mouth. 

Ian wrapped one strong arm across his lower back and led him to the edge of the table, teasing his hole. With their heads pressed together, he couldn’t help but whimper as Ian slowly pushed in.

“Ian.” Mickey groaned. 

Fuck, it was tight. Ian hadn’t stretched him with more than two fingers and he fucking loved it. He felt it all. Ian stretching him wide, pulsing inside of him. Ian’s arm tightened and slipped in deeper. 

“I know,” Ian groaned as he bottomed out, pressing them close together. “You’re so perfect Mickey.”

Ian’s voice was getting to him. So soft and certain.

“So, so perfect for me.”

He couldn’t hear anymore. If he was perfect, he would be what Ian needed. He cupped Ian’s cheek and blocked his lips with his thumb. “Shhh, just don’t.” He begged; his voice held that watery sound. “Please don’t.

For awhile, they just moved together. Ian pushed into him, holding him tight, and he held him right back. Gripping his sides, then his shoulders. Eager for more. With their heads pressed together, sharing the passion they created as Ian moved faster. 

But Ian couldn’t stay silent for long. “Baby, pick me. Please.”

Mickey’s heart skipped a beat. He already picked Ian. Over and over again. Even today, he picked Ian’s life over his happiness. 

Ian kissed his thumb. “Please choose me baby.” 

Mickey gripped him harder, pulling him closer until he could feel his chest and he nodded. Saying he picked him already. “Don’t ask me that.”

Ian slowed and pushed him down to lay flat against the table, then climbed up after him, settling between his thighs. Ian’s arm moved under his back and dug into one shoulder, the other moved to his hip as Ian started to move again. 

“God, you feel so good Mick.” 

Mickey gasped at the deeper angle, from here he was able to take him that much deeper. He squeezed his legs and Ian sped up as he tucked his face into his neck. 

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” He whispered and kissed up his jaw.

He was Ian’s. And Ian was his.

He whimpered, from the sudden urgency to come, or from his words. “Fuck, I feel it.” His hands moved from Ian’s shoulders to his ass, digging his nails in as he urged him on. “Wanna come, fuck. Want you to come.” 

Ian kissed him, stopping him from saying anything else. One hand moved to the back of his neck and kept him there, the other stayed on his ass, pushing and demanding more. Ian gave him more, fuck. He broke the kiss, put one of his legs over his shoulder and changed the angle until he was relentlessly pounding into his prostate. Pure pleasure pulsed through every nerve in his body, something he never felt with anyone but Ian. 

Mickey moved his hands to Ian’s stomach, digging his nails in. “Right there, fuck that’s it.” He tipped his head back as it washed over him, leaving him bare, raw. “Oh God, fuck, shit…”

Ian slid his hand down, jerking him off with each thrust. “Gotta come for me baby.” Ian begged, unable to hold on. “Fuck, I can’t—please Mick.”

The begging got him, he was fucking done as he nodded. “Right now fuck...fuck!” he came hard, slamming into him like a mac truck. Ian kept moving as he came, drawing it out further than normal. 

“Ian.” He whispered and felt Ian’s body shake because of it. Ian pressed his face into his neck.

“Baby,” Ian whined. “God!”

Mickey felt him come, pushing in hard and deep, filling him up, claiming him once again. He was Ian’s. Ian moved his head from his neck and rest it against his own, breathing just as heavily as he was. 

It was over. That was their goodbye. But why did it have to be so fucking good? So sweet and beyond perfect? It was so unfair. 

Ian was losing it already. His green were drowning in tears. It was all his fault. “Ian,” he spoke quietly but it was so raw, stripped to the bloody muscle. “I don’t have a choice here.”

As Ian nodded, that first tear dripped on his cheek and Ian wiped it away and he patiently waited for him to break his heart. 

“But if I did, I would pick you.”

Another tear fell on Ian’s cheek and Mickey was there to brush it away, rubbing under one green eye like he might never see them again. Fuck.

“I love you more than anything Mickey.”

And then he was gone, slipping out and moving away. As Ian stepped to the side, Mickey grabbed Ian shirt and wiped away the tear that fell on his own cheek. He came back a second later and cleaned him up. Mickey could only sit there and let him. He was frozen, in mild shock.

This was the end. 

Ian helped dress him for his wedding to someone else. Fixing his tie, dusting off his jacket. Silently crying. Unable to look him in the eye. He wanted to fix it so fucking bad. It hurt him to see Ian like this. 

If he didn’t speak up now, it was really over. “Goddamn Gallagher, gotta get you pissed off more often.” His attempt at humor failed but Ian still smiled as he lit a cigarette. 

“So, what are we gonna do? Are we gonna tell everyone to go home?”

Ian tried again, for the last time. 

“No,” he took the cigarette and took a deep drag. The bullet flashed into his mind. “Gotta get this shit over with.” He turned to walk back. “Wanna wait here for me? Shouldn’t take longer than an hour. Then you better be ready for round two.”

Ian clenched his jaw. “You’re not really going through with this, are you?” 

Mickey kept walking, leading them back. “You know I don’t have a choice in this.” He knew. Lip knew. Ian should know.

“This is bullshit Mickey.” Ian grabbed his arms. “You love me.”

Ian was right. He did love him. He loved him enough to keep him alive. “And if I did? So what. You think that changes a damn thing?” 

Ian nodded and cupped his face and Mickey leaned into his touch. 

“It changes everything baby, everything.” He kissed him slowly. “I know we can make this work. I’ll do anything I can.”

Could they make it work? Could he tell Svetlana and the guests to fuck off, ditch his own wedding and risk both of their lives to be with Ian? Could they outrun Terry and his never ending friends list who would help hunt them down. They would never be safe. 

He didn’t get a chance to ask as heels lightly tapped down the hallway. Mandy. And he wondered why it had taken her so long to come down. 

“Here, this is for you.” 

Mickey looked down at Ian put a black ring box in his hand. Holy fuck. His eyes widened and he knew his mouth dropped open in shock. 

“You know we can do this baby.” Ian held him close for a moment longer. “When you realize it, I’ll be waiting in our spot.”

Ian backed up as Mandy came closer, tears streaming down his face. Mickey clenched the box and never looked away.

“Mickey!!”

Mandy's voice made him flinch but he didn’t glance to the door. “Ian…”

Ian only smiled through the tears and walked away. Leaving him. Mickey felt his heart pound in his chest, trying to jump out and run after him. He brought the box up to his face with shaky hands.

He knew what this was. Only one thing came in black boxes like this. It was a ring. Ian just handed him a ring and a promise. Ian wanted him to chose right now. 

“Mickey! What the fuck?” Mandy asked as she came into the room. “We have been waiting.”

Mickey didn’t look up from the box as he opened it and he didn’t answer her right away. His breath caught painfully in his chest and there was no stopping the tears this time. 

“Get out.” He whispered and rubbed his thumb over the smooth band.

“What? We don’t have time for this. Svetla—“

At her name, his blood boiled red hot. “Get the fuck out!!” He screamed and heard her gasp as she quickly left him alone. 

His hand shook as he took the ring from the box and let it drop to his feet. It was fucking incredible. Ian knew what he would and wouldn’t wear and this was so his style. God, a ring. For him, from Ian. 

Ian wasn’t asking for marriage but the ring was official. 

“Shit.” He sniffed as he slipped it on his left hand and it fit like a glove. It looked incredible and felt better. It felt right because it came from Ian. 

He slowly rubbed over the smooth band, getting lost in the tantalizing rhythm. He didn’t care about the party above him, or the fact that Terry would probably come down to get him if he wasted too much time. 

Ian was his choice. From the beginning. There was no way he could do this shit. He could pretend and get the wedding over with, but that was just for one day. Not even an entire day. Just a few hours. But after? He would have to keep on pretending. Keep up the lie, a worse lie than him being a fag who takes it up the ass or the fact that he loved Ian. 

Mickey stood and yanked the bow tie off his neck and shrugged off the jacket. He unbuttoned the buttons at his throat and wrists and rolled them up to his elbows. This was it. He was out. 

He kept a picture of Ian crying in the front of his mind as he left the lower level and made his way up. His body jumped at the loud music or the fact that he could already hear Terry’s voice, slurred and loud. Already fuckin drunk. 

Drunk was good, maybe he had half a chance of surviving this. 

Mickey stopped and scanned the room, feeling his heart pound in his chest and his hands curled into fists. The room seemed to finally notice his arrival and they turned to look at him. Some smiling, Mandy scowled and looked away. Svetlana had her resting bitch face look on as always. One look to her and she knew it wasn’t happening. 

And then there was Terry. An evil presence in the room. It just poured out of him, tainting the entire area around him. He was smiling in victory. Holding his beer and staring him down, daring him to fuck this up and make waves. 

The music died down as he cleared his throat, and Terry’s smile slipped and the hand on his beet tightened, crushing the sides of the can.

“Listen up,” He spoke up loudly, focusing on Ian’s face. “This wedding is over, done. Pack your shit and get the fuck out.” 

The words were rushed as if he only had a second to say everything before Terry killed him. And the silence that followed was so loud. His stomach curled as people talked silently to each other, giving him glares and scowls. 

He didn’t care about them. He kept his eyes focused on Terry, unwilling to look away for the first time. 

Terry stood and the talking stopped. The crowd spread wide to make room. Mickey cursed and clenched his jaw as well as his fists. He was about to fight once again and there was no guarantee that anyone would help him if he needed it. 

Movement caught his eye and he glanced to his side, all while keeping track of Terry. Lip had moved. He moved from behind the bar with a bat in his hand. One nod, that was all the communication they shared.

Lip Gallagher of all people had his back.

“Sit the hell down everyone,” Terry slurred as he shuffled across the floor, “get your ass up there and quit dickin around.”

Mickey stood his ground as that last word put Terry right in front of him. “No, I’m not doing this shit and you know why.” He glanced around to everyone’s confused look. He leaned in close so only Terry could hear him. “Don’t make me say it. Then everyone will know your son takes it up the ass. What would they think of you then?”

Terry growled and the room took a step back. “You won’t make it.”

Mickey clenched his jaw. He was able to walk away but if Terry brought Ian into it, they would really have a problem. “I was forced to survive all types of shit Terry, I’ll make it.”

“You might, can’t kill the only smart kid I have.”

Mickey smirked.

“But he won’t. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

The threat was right there, thrown in his face once again. Mickey just smiled as he clenched his fist fight and as soon as Terry thought he won this little tiff, he swung hard and fast. His fist collided with Terry’s jaw, knocking his head back with a painful snap.

“Oh fuck.”

Mickey ignored Mandy and ducked just in time. Terry swung back, slowed from too much booze and missed. Mickey took full advantage. His other fist connected with his stomach, making him bend in half. 

Terry charged, expelling a breathless sound. Mickey gripped his back, tearing at his shirt as he was slammed into the wall. His head snapped back and his vision blurred for a second. When he regained it, a fist was coming at him and he wasn’t fast enough.

Smack in the face. The pain wasn’t too bad, but the black eye would be worse. Mickey shoved his knee up, getting Terry in the stomach. He doubled over and he brought his knee up again, right into his face. 

“I’ll fucking kill you if you go near him.” Mickey growled and shoved him back, giving him more room. 

“You don’t have the balls.” Terry shot back.

Mickey dodged the first swing, but not the second. It landed on his other cheek, splitting the skin. “Oh, I got plenty.” He charged him this time, knocking them to the floor.

They rolled around, dodging kicks and punches, some landed while others didn’t. Terry's mouth was dripping blood down his neck. Mickey’s lip was split as well. But something happened, Terry got the upper hand and had him pinned to the floor, face down with his right arm twisted behind him.

“After I’m done with you, he’s next.”

Mickey braced for the final blow but never landed. He glanced back and Lip had the bat pressing against the back of Terry’s head.

“Get the fuck up.” Lip growled.

Terry released his arm and he hissed as it moved. Not broken, but fuck it hurt. Mickey rolled to his back and with a hand from Lip, he stood up and Terry looked at them with murder in his eyes.

“You touch my brother and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” Lip warned and swung the bat.

Mickey smirked. A bat might keep Terry back for a moment, but threats and a piece of wood was not a cure all. Still, Lip was a welcome presence beside him.

“This isn’t over.” Terry growled.

“Get out of here. I’ll hold him off.”

Mickey shook his head and rubbed his mouth with his shirt. “It won’t last long.”

“It’s not supposed to. Just get what you need and leave.”

Ian was what he needed. Mickey set one bloody hand on Lip’s shoulder and moved towards the door. As much as he hated leaving shit like that, Terry would be back and he either needed to be gone or ready for him.

By the time he reached his house, an hour had passed since Ian left him. The house was dark and quiet as he went inside as he moved to the back. He didn’t need clothes, or shoes. Or much of anything in his room. But he kept a stash of cash, a fake ID and a gun that wasn’t tied to him, in his room and he needed it.

Mickey dug in his pocket as his phone rang. “What?” He answered and dug into his closet.

“Terry’s gone, headed your way.”

Lip sounded worried and he should be. Terry would be there in no time if he drove. He had less than 10 minutes to get out. “Don’t worry about it, I’m leaving.”

“I can’t get ahold of Ian.”

“I know where he is and I’m going to get him.” He popped the floorboard in the corner of his closet and sighed when the cash was still there. He and Ian would need it.

“Don’t come back Mickey. Not unless Terry is back in lock up or dead.”

Mickey grabbed what he needed and spread it on his bed. He had the phone propped against his shoulder because his other arm wouldn’t move away from his body. “I know how to fuckin handle him Lip.”

“Good.”

“I’m hanging up, but thanks for the help and the warning.” 

There was silence on the phone as they both realized that Mickey actually thanked someone for something. It was unheard of. 

“No problem man.”

The call barely ended when he was being pulled back and slammed against the wall. Mickey held up his face as Terry tried to hit him over and over again. Some landed, others didn’t but his energy was waning fast. 

He needed to do something to make him back off long enough to grab his gun. His arms were trapped, his face was pressed against the wall. The only thing he had was his legs. Mickey lifted his knee up right between Terry’s legs and he dropped with a painful groan. 

“Pussy.” Terry mumbled and held himself.

Mickey smiled through a mouthful of blood and tossed one more punch to his face and he went back. The gun was already loaded as he grabbed it and cocked it back. He walked back over and put the gun in his face as Terry got back to his knees.

Mickey saw it. The fear, actual fear. Maybe it was because he was so calm, or that his hand didn’t shake, but Terry finally believed he would shoot him and he would.

“You come at me or him and I’ll kill you.” Mickey spit blood between them and pressed the barrel to his head. “Any of your asshole friends come at us, I’ll start with you.”

Terry remined silent.

“Try me Terry,” he prompted. “Make a move, just one. Just one and it’s over.” He took a deep breath and this moment actually calmed him down. He would kill Terry if he needed to. “No one will blink an eye.”

When Terry still didn’t answer, he popped the bullet from the chamber and caught it mid-air. He looked at it, showed it to Terry before he tossed it at him. 

Terry’s eyes widened as he snarled. 

Mickey did it again and tossed him another, and another. Until all of them were laying at his feet. If Terry tried for the gun, it would be empty. Mickey backed up and dug into his table to grab the bullet he needed. He loaded the gun, cocked it back and moved it gun back to his head.

“Do we understand each other?”

Terry gritted his teeth as he nodded.

“Good.” Mickey moved the gun down and put that bullet through his thigh. Terry screamed and that fear doubled. “Just in case you forget.”

He gathered up his shit and stuffed it into a bag, then walked around Terry as he grabbed his leg. It would smart to kill him right now. But the last thing he wanted was for Ian to still be waiting for him.

Mickey turned the gun and hit Terry in the back of the neck with it. He fell face first into the floor, passed out. It would have to do. He shut the door, and dialed his phone as he walked out. 

“911, what is your emergency?”

Mickey took off down the street as he told them Terry had a gun again. The conversation didn’t last long. They had a shit load of experience with his dad. 

All he needed to do was get to Ian. Hopefully he was still there.  
**

By the time he rounded in on the ballfield, two hours had passed. It was dark, nearly pitch black but his eyes adjusted on the walk there and he could see Ian pacing inside the dug out.

He waited. Fuck, Ian waited. That filled that dark hole inside him that formed when Ian left. He promised himself this time he would do better. It would be different. No more hiding. No more acting like he wasn’t neck deep in love.

Mickey set his bag down at the gate and just watched him. A few beer bottles littered the ground, cigarette butts too. He could hear the rough sound of Ian breathing, like he had to put in actual effort. Ian was having a fuck of a time. Well, that made two of them.

Mickey quickly scaled the side, hissing the entire way because he only had one arm to use. He knew Ian heard him just before he dropped to the ground, Mickey could practically hear his smile.

He landed on the other side with a hiss. Mickey turned around as Ian stood up and saw that smile leave as Ian got a good look at him.

“Oh my God…”

Mickey squirmed under his watchful eye and knew Ian would blame himself for this. He met his eyes and felt like crying. 

“Mickey—“

Mickey moved forward, wincing as his ribs and lower back ached. “Sorry I’m late.”

Ian smiled through the tears as he stepped up closer. When Ian’s hand cupped his face and smoothed over the dried blood on one cut, he closed his eyes and leaned into his hand. “Baby, what happened?”

Mickey lifted his left hand and saw Ian’s lips tremble as he saw the ring. “I made a choice.”

Ian took his hand and put it to his face. “Oh baby, I can’t believe this shit is real.”

Mickey snorted. “Considering I just got my ass beaten for you, twice I might add, it better fuckin be real.” He tried to make a joke and tell the truth at the same time. Ian smiled and kissed the ring around his finger. He knew. Ian knew why he looked like this.

“I promise on everything I don’t have.”

Mickey grinned as he blinked the tears back. Ian was like him, he didn’t have a lot. Which is why he said it. It was too fucking sweet and had his body shaking.

“And what I do have, that this shit is real baby. It’s always been real.”

Mickey closed his eyes and leaned his head against Ian’s. There was so much he needed to say. So fucking much. He wanted to say all the shit he should have, many times. Ian deserved it. But this was only their beginning and there would be other times to talk.

For now, this was enough.

But Ian Gallagher loved him, he risked their lives on it.


End file.
